When Wounded Sore The Stricken Soul
When wounded sore, the stricken soul
Lies bleeding and unbound,
One only hand, a pierced hand,
Can salve the sinner’s wound,
Can salve the sinner’s wound.
When sorrow swells the laden breast,
And tears of anguish flow,
One only heart, a broken heart,
Can feel the sinner’s woe,
Can feel the sinner’s woe.
When penitence has wept in vain
Because of some dark spot,
One only stream, a stream of blood,
Can wash away the blot,
Can wash away the blot.
‘T is Jesus’ blood that washes white,
This hand that brings relief;
This heart that’s touched with all our joys,
And feeleth for our grief,
And feeleth for our grief.
Lift up thy bleeding hand, O Lord,
Unseal that cleansing tide;
We have no shelter from our sin
But in thy wounded side,
But in thy wounded side.